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I found myself thinking recently about all the hoopla surrounding the last summer round of wild fires (California, Greece, etc). And I remembered this old, old, but awesome hip-hop ditty.
Today, the author would be arrested for terrorism. :)
It's best to listen to the song late in the evening, but not too late - they say that if you play with fire you might wet your bed (2 clips, move back and forth by pressing the left or right arrows):
I'm not sure why I like it so much. I prefer to register the symbolism and not the actual act of arson. Fire is a symbol for creativity, for emancipation. Every artist feels the fire. Idiots set buildings or forests on fire. Pick & choose. Here are the full lyrics:

stealin' down an alley on a cold dark night
i see a halo in the rain 'round a street light
i stop and look and listen to the sound
as the raindrops penetrate the silence all around
alone, i gaze into the glistening street
the distant thunder echoing my heartbeat
urging me on to a secret goal
away from the light from this lamp on a pole
so i turn
slip away into the rain
drifting like a spirit through the shadows in the lane
clutching the tools of my trade in my hand
an old box of matches and a gasoline can
darkness envelops the scene like a shroud
a veil of emptiness hangs from the clouds
filling up the cracks in this desolate place
cradled by the night in an icy embrace
i move through the town like a ghost in the rain
a dim reflection in a dark windowpane
blackness beckons from every side
creeping all around like an incoming tide
a broken window in an empty house
i slip inside and begin to douse
the whole place with the fuel that will feed the fire
and push back the night, taking me higher
on out of the darkness
in a deafening roar
the match in my hand is the key to the door
a simple turn of the wrist will suffice
to open a passage to paradise
i pause
think about the past in the gloom
the smell of gasoline permeates the room
everyone has a little secret he keeps
i light the fires while the city sleeps
the match makes a graceful arc to the floor
time stands still as I turn for the door
which explodes in a fireball and throws me to the street
i hit the ground running with the flames at my feet
reaching for the night which recoils from the fire
the raindrops hiss like a devilish choir
dying in the flames with a terrible sound
calling all the names of sleepers all around
but then in the arms of the night they lay
their dreams sprout wings and fly away
out of their houses in a gathering flock
swarming overhead as I hurry down the block
i make my escape with the greatest of ease
and safe in the darkness, i drop to my knees
a light in this window, my hand on the latch
i reach in my pocket and pull out a match